Behold the Irony
by Mello's Favorite Reject
Summary: "He was a geek. He was a nerd and a loser. He was an introvert. He preferred programs to people. He didn't have friends, but maybe that was his choice." OneShot.


**Title:** Behold the Irony

**Summary:** "He was a geek. He was a nerd and a loser. He was an introvert. He preferred programs to people. He didn't have friends, but maybe that was his choice." OneShot.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own DN or anything that may be referenced.

**Author's Note:** This is written in Mello's perspective. Not sure if I like it or not. And, the title doesn't fit it, but I couldn't come up with a better one. Oh well. Enjoy.

…

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Call him what you will, but I knew him once. Say he's a loser; label him a nerd, geek, technomancer, and an introvert. Talk behind his back –go ahead; he can still hear your taunts. Laugh at his discount clothes and self-cut hair. Point fingers at the worn old shoes held together by duct tape.

Do it; fulfill your desire to mock him.

He truly is all those things and more. And he knew this, just as I have known this for quite some time.

Do me a favor –think back a little while. Remember high school? Remember the quiet redhead you used to slam into the lockers? Think about the dejected look that fell over his face after you knocked his books from his hands or snatched his Gameboy from him. Wasn't it all an uproarious enterprise of sorts?

I bet you recall these things as if they'd happened only a week ago, but it's been years –hasn't it?

I bet you didn't think about how time flew for you and dragged for him.

I bet you never thought to say you're sorry.

And now, it's too late.

He got strung out last weekend; drank himself into a stupor and tried to make it home in his beloved Camaro.

He ran one red light too many and collided headfirst into an oncoming 18-wheeler.

I pray that he died quickly, but I'll never know.

However, I do know that four people showed up at his funeral.

A priest came, only to appropriate the ceremony.

A father dropped by out of sheer curiosity, never really knowing him and never caring to try.

The driver of the 18-wheeler that had caused his demise –he showed up to pay respect and offer condolences that were not needed.

And me: the one person who knew him well enough to understand that he was a lost cause. I came… because I owed it to him, and I owed it to myself.

I'm not a saint; I was mean to him too, but I got to know him first. I listened to him when he spoke; I noticed that small smile that slipped into place when Mario hit the flagpole and cleared a stage; I saw his eyes light up when he got his schedule for 2nd Semester and found out that he had Computer Science.

But… I also noticed the bruises on his neck and wrists –fingerprints, I'm sure. I saw the fear in his eyes when the school bell rang to release us all to go home. I caught sight of the blackened eyes. I noticed that he almost never ate at school, though his stomach always growled. I heard him crying in the bathroom stall when he thought he was alone.

And I saw that calm composure as he tackled tests that made me sweaty and nervous. I saw his effortless A's come back, and I wanted to be jealous; I wanted to accuse him of cheating, but one look at the shaky hands that could barely grip a pencil and I decided to keep my mouth shut. I couldn't find it in me to be jealous or spiteful of someone like him.

Y'see, I was never friends with him, but I could speculate abuse from foster parents. I could see his intelligence. And I could tell he lived with one foot in the grave.

As senior year rolled by, I began to notice him being absent for days at a time, which was odd because he used to always have perfect attendance. When he bothered to show up, he would wear goggles to hide his eyes; he stopped doing homework and eventually gave up on school work too. It was obvious that something was wrong, but I never cared enough to find out.

That's exactly it. I didn't care about the redhead. But at least I knew who he was. Not even the teachers remembered his name. I doubt you did either.

_Do you remember a boy named Mail Jeevas?_

At least I can stand before his grave today, and I can say _(with conviction!)_ that he was a geek. He was a nerd and a loser. He was an introvert. He preferred programs to people. He didn't have friends, but maybe that was his choice. Maybe the only friend he needed was a red-hatted plumber who stomped on Goombas and saved the Princess.

There's a lot I can say about Mail: the gamer who avoided reality in favor of guiding protagonists through dungeons to conquer mythic quests that would somehow improve a virtual world and its pixilated characters.

But, most importantly, I can say that he was a strong individual… and I wish I could have approached him with the resolution to tell him what I thought.

Then again, would it have made a difference? Would kind words from one stranger have been enough to stop him from drinking and slipping behind the wheel?

I can't say.

All I know is that God is holding his hand right now, shepherding him unto the heavens. And, who knows? Maybe heaven will house someone willing to approach him.

And maybe that particular _someone_ will have the courage to say what I should have said so long ago.

I should have said_: 'Hello…'_ Instead, I'm turning away in a wordless gesture of '_good bye_.' Behold the irony.

…

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**/Drop a REVIEW if it didn't suck hardcore./**


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